


It Would Be A Terrible Thing To Waste

by Cyberrat



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Hints of mental abuse, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-17
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 22:14:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3185147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cyberrat/pseuds/Cyberrat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the Petopher Secret Santa 2014</p>
<p>After his release from Eichen House, Peter's walls seem to have crumbled. An easy target for Chris.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Would Be A Terrible Thing To Waste

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> The Prompts that I kind of smushed together were:
> 
> "Peter’s most private secret is the crush he has on Chris Argent. The crush he’s had since high school. But its very hard to keep secrets when you’re locked in an Eichen House prison cell with a cyclops who just so happens to be telepathic."
> 
> "Peter bottoms for the first time for Chris. He doesn’t expect it to be very good. Chris’ cock probably isn’t even that big. (He is wrong. On both counts.) Please include Peter’s arrogance and pride slowly giving way to tears and whining as he struggles to take that thick Argent cock. :D"
> 
> "Peter can’t stop blushing when he’s around Chris. And people are starting to notice."

“Well. That doesn’t surprise me in the least.”

Chris smirks when he sees the smug, self-satisfied expression on Peter’s face crack just the slightest bit.He straightens a little to let his back crack while he waits for Peter to get his wits back.

“What do you mean that doesn’t surprise you?” Peter probably wants it to sound nonchalant and sarcastic but to Chris’ ears he sounds a little strained. Maybe a bit nervous.

After Eichen House, Peter has lost a bit of his absolute poker face. It is easier to rile him up - easier to get beneath his skin and see what is really going on behind that posh, calculating exterior.

“I mean that you are too prissy and _scared_ to take it up the ass, Hale.”

Chris is not always so crude but he likes the way Peter’s upper lip curls in disgust whenever he is. Oh yes. It didn’t surprise him one bit that Peter had never submitted to anybody. Worries him, maybe, for how many good, honest men Peter had strung along, the little cocktease. But didn’t surprise him. No.

The silence from Peter stretches so long that Chris chances another glance at him. The murmuring of the bar around them keeps being a soothing background noise to their interesting, little chat. He is a little taken aback, however, when he sees the faint flush on Peter’s cheeks. Was he… blushing? What?

“Whatever,” the wolf suddenly mumbles. He digs in his pockets for money and throws a few bills on the countertop. “I’m out of here.”

The move is unexpected enough to leave Chris sitting at the bar counter for a few long heartbeats as he stares after Peter’s retreating back.

That had been… unexpected. Highly unexpected.

.o.

Chris reaches Peter outside the bar just as the wolf is about to get into his stupidly posh car. The growl coming off of him when the hunter seizes one tense biceps and spins him around is a little too feral for Chris’ tastes. He doesn’t hesitate, however, in pinning Peter against the car so hard that it bounces with their weights.

“ _Watch_ it, Argent,” Peter hisses, a dangerous smirk sitting on his lips. “You’ll have to pay for the paint job if you scratch it up.”

Chris ignores him in favor of pressing closer, one hand curled around the back of Peter’s neck, fingers digging into the short hair there. He can barely see the bright blue of the wolf’s eyes around the huge seas of black that are his pupils.

“You’re running from me?”

“In your dreams, _hunter_. I’m merely bored with your crude attempt at conversation.”

Chris hums and leans forward and - oh. He can’t see it properly in the darkness surrounding them, but Peter’s blush is still there, warm and delicious on his cheeks and the cold tip of his nose.

“You’re embarrassed,” he muses without acknowledging what Peter had said earlier. “The only question is, why, though. Because I am right? Or because you want it and don’t want me to know it?” Peter’s growl gets more prominent, hands rising but never actually pushing Chris away.

“You’re drunk, Argent.”

“Only tipsy.” Chris noses up Peter’s temple and takes a deep breath of the expensive aftershave Peter likes to wear. “So fucking prissy,” he sighs, clicking his tongue when Peter stiffens against him, and finally starts to push away, face annoyed and bored looking.

“Go away.”

“That’s all you got? Pretty weak, Peter.”

“I’m about done with your shit for one night, Argent. I’m not going to stand here and let myself get insulted just because I…” he trails off for a second and Chris raises his eyebrows, hips unconsciously pressing into Peter. “Just because I have no interest in shoving things inside orifices of my body where they have no place to be.”

He sounds so prim that it brings a grin to Chris’ face as he leans back to get a better view on him. The pup is visibly flustered below his cold exterior.

Sometimes Chris wonders what exactly Dr Valack did to break Peter open so completely.

“You don’t even know whether you would enjoy it.”

Peter throws him an annoyed look before he seems to finally calm down, head tipping back as he watches Chris steadily - predatorily.

“I guess this is your way of flirting, Argent? Kind of pathetic. Good thing hunter families always arrange marriages, huh? And, what - you are offering yourself? Selflessly too, I bet. Big, bad hunter coming to the rescue.” Peter’s gaze glides down Chris’ chest only to stop in a mocking leer at his crotch. “I doubt what you’ve got is even worth my time. Christopher.”

Chris snorts and pushes away fully in order to take a step back. He raises his open hands in an effort to look less aggressive, mocking Peter only further. It fills him with a perverse joy when he realizes Peter’s body is angling after him, seemingly seeking his warmth before the wolf rightens himself quickly and uselessly tugs at his leather jacket.

“Only one way to find out. _Peter_. But if you’ve been too afraid to try it for so long, I don’t suppose you’ll have the guts to do it _now_.”

Peter had been turned to the side, fiddling with the keys of his car - but went deathly still now. Only the steady stream of white smoke from his nose and mouth showed that he was even still breathing.

Chris felt ridiculously accomplished when Peter turned around and nudged his chin up higher into the air - haughty and smug in a way that made the hunter yearn to turn him into a begging, little mess.

“You’re _on_ , Argent. Let’s go to mine. I doubt this will take long and I still have a full DVR.”

.o.

“Get _on_ with it!”

“You’re so nervous. Calm down.”

“I’m not- I’m not _nervous_. I told you I had stuff that I wanted to-”

Chris’ hands are big on Peter’s shoulders as he pushes him energetically back down, his eyes glowing almost wolf-like in the dimness of the room. Peter feels a shudder thrumming through his system, nipples peaking up in excitement.

The corner of Argent’s mouth quirks up as if he _knows_. Peter looks to the side, baring his throat unconsciously before he even realizes what he’s doing. When Argent dares to _laugh_ , he bucks up against him, trying to dislodge the heavy, delicious weight on his hips to no avail.

“You’re nervous. I can see your pulse, pup. It’s racing. Right _here_.” Chris dips his head low, lips and beard scratching over the big artery on the side of Peter’s neck. It’s like every shameful fantasy of his teenage years come true - and more. He’s never had the added input of how Chris would smell - smokey and sharp and _dangerous_ \- or how he would feel, flexing his hips atop him and rubbing their groins together in slow, sensual drags.

It’s enough to make Peter want to crawl on his belly for him. Makes him want to open his legs and show the hunter everything he had. Makes him want to _submit_ and be taken _apart_ , and the sudden knowledge rattles him enough to take his breath away until the acute need for air is becoming painful.

“ _Breathe_ , Peter.” He gasps, body jerking once beneath Chris, arms coming up to clamp hands with too long nails around the hunter’s biceps. They stare at each other in surprise for too long before Argent snorts and drags one soothing hand down Peter’s chest, cruel fingers pinching one of the flat, small nipples until the wolf can’t help but whine softly.

“You’re ridiculous,” Chris whispers and Peter’s retort gets stuck in his throat when the hunter starts moving off of him, taking all the delicious weight and warmth with him.

“Where’s the lube?” he asks casually and Peter has to throw an arm across his eyes when he starts peeling out of his clothes, just so he wouldn’t watch him and give himself away even more. He snorts petulantly and nearly curls onto his side just to spite him.

“I doubt we’ll need any, Argent. Just spit on the thing you call a cock and - “

He couldn’t help but peek out from beneath his arm when he heard the unmistakable sound of a zipper being lowered. The words get stuck in his throat at the sight of Argent’s fist around a cock that is _ridiculously_ perfect - thick and curved with a fat, shiny head that Peter could suddenly imagine rubbing against the roof of his mouth; imagine nudging against the resistance of his throat until he was forced to swallow it, muscles clenching around the girth.

“Fuck,” he breathes, ears full of the blood rushing through his veins and drowning out Argent’s soft, almost fond laughter.

“Where’s the lube, Peter?” the hunter asks again, voice deep and rumbling, coaxing the wolf to let his arm fall from his face so he could watch unabashedly how Chris was lazily stroking himself in slow, self-indulgent tugs that had Peter curving his hips up into the air helplessly.

It was true. He never had had the urge to bottom - never had had the urge to feel someone breaking him open. Except, it seemed, if this _someone_ was Chris Argent.

Because Chris Argent _always_ had been the exception to Peter’s rules, and the look on his face told the wolf that the bastard _enjoyed_ it, too.

.o.

“You’re so quiet, Peter… Nothing to say? No sarcastic quips? No shows to watch?”

Chris knows he’s an asshole but it is just so tempting when Peter is laid out before him, strangely quiet with his mouth soft and open and bruised looking from his own teeth, and his hands curled into loose fists as he gets prepped by the hunter. He’s tight and hot around Chris’ slowly moving fingers; his insides soft and slick in a way that is kind of shocking even though it really shouldn’t be.

Of course Peter would be hot inside. Of course Chris would be able to feel his heartbeat through the thin walls surrounding him as the wolf squeezes down, muscles twitching in nervousness.

Peter liked to pretend to be a heartless, cold blooded bastard; but in reality, he was just like everybody else. Deliciously, frighteningly, strangely vulnerable.

His prostate was preternaturally hot and fat against Chris’ searching fingertips and when he curiously rubbed it, Peter’s knees jerked from their droop to both sides, mouth opening wider seemingly in shock.

“Peter?” Chris leans over him without pulling out, his heavy cock dragging along one thick thigh, leaving a sticky trail behind. “Everything okay, pup?” There’s a teasing lilt underneath the worried exterior but it gives quickly way to a strange feeling of displacement when all Peter makes is a wounded, soft whine.

“Feels good, doesn’t it? Never played with your prostate, have you?” Chris feels strangely out of breath when he drags his fingers across the spot once more. When Peter curves his hips up into the touch so suddenly that his erection slaps against his abdomen, Chris is sure the wolf doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. Peter looks _out_ of it, low, rumbling noises spilling from him as he fucks himself with clumsy movements onto Chris’ fingers.

It is beautiful.

“You look like you’re about to come, Peter. Are you? Are you going to come, Hale? Like a sweet, little bottom bitch?”

That, at last, seemed to shock him out of the little whimpers he had devolved into, eyes clearing up to shoot the hunter a withering glare as he tried to stand his feet up on the bed which took a few weak tries before he managed.

“Shut up and get your fucking cock in me, Argent.”

“Mmh. Eager. I like it.”

“Argent!” Peter’s eyes are glowing a bright, icy blue as he digs sharp claws into the bedding. “Just get it over with. I haven’t let you play with my ass for seemingly _hours_ just so you can annoy me to death on the last… couple… of-”

He trails off as he watches Chris knee walk a little closer, one big hand curled around his cock, helping him push the shiny tip against Peter’s ass.

It would be even kind of adorable - the way Peter raises his head and anxiously looks down his body, past his own cock that was flexing up from his belly in a way that looked hilariously indecisive. It _would_ be adorable, if it wasn’t Peter Hale he was slowly pushing inside of. Peter Hale really wasn’t adorable.

...But he was _hot_ and _tight_ and gripped Chris’ cock like a glove as the fat head finally popped past the clenching muscle with a little, canine yelp that had Chris gnash his teeth together, fingers digging into the thick thighs shaking at his hips.

“ _Relax,”_ the hunter huffs, eyes screwed shut as he curves his hands around the wolf’s hips, fingers digging into the plush cheeks of his ass. “ _Peter!_ ” he hisses when there’s still no give, Peter’s rim a tight, hot band just behind the head of his cock. “Just _relax_! You’ll hurt-”

There’s a soft whimpering noise that finally has him open his eyes, momentarily forgetting the insistent throb in his cock. Peter is staring at him wide-eyed, the sharp tips of his fangs just about visible in his mouth.

There’s another noise that sounds almost hurt, Peter’s broad chest heaving with the air he’s pulling in rapidly. His cock was still lying heavy and drooling against his belly even though he looks like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.

“Peter,” Chris groans. He falls forward, both of them hissing when his cock moves a little further in. “Pup, c’mon. Relax.”

He isn’t sure whether it’s the words that do it or his nose nudging along the stubbled jaw, getting the wolf to tip his head back and bare the thick line of his neck - but suddenly he is indeed opening up and letting Chris inside.

It is…

It certainly is _something_.

.o.

Peter can’t… he can’t _breathe_. He feels like he’s getting split open, spread impossibly wide on Argent’s cock. He hadn’t thought it could feel like this. He hadn’t been _aware_.

Chris feels heavy and thick inside him, moving slowly but without a pause as he opens Peter up for his deep, rocking thrusts. There’s a jolt making his legs twitch every time Chris passes a certain spot and no matter how badly Peter wants to control it, he just can’t.

He can’t control the way he tightens up around Chris again and again. He can’t control the way he’s whining embarrassingly high and needy when Argent pushes in slow, slow, _slow_. He can’t control the way his arms curl around Chris’ shoulders, pulling him down until Peter can feel the rasp of his stubble against his throat, fingers digging into the short hair on the back of the hunter’s head.

He can’t control it. He can’t _help_ it. He’s a victim to his own ignorance and never had he paid for it so dearly. It seems like Chris is not only opening him up around the heavy, grounding weight of his cock but also baring the rest of him in slow strips that feel like Peter is watching from the outside - watching a trainwreck happening right there and now.

Because he’s starting to curl around Chris like he’s never going to let him go, feeling more secure as he twines his legs around the hunter’s hips until the gravelly voice teases him that he can barely move like that.

Peter is curled around him and taking what Chris gives him and there is no way… no _fucking_ way that he doesn’t realize…

“So good for me, pup… _Fuck_. Your ass was made for this, Peter. Made for fucking. You ridiculous, little cock tease.”

And he’s pulling up, away from Peter even though the wolf is whimpering and trying to keep him close, werewolf strength sapped away by the slow, intimate fuck he’s receiving.

Peter knows his face is hot with a blush, eyes bright with the ridiculous puppy love he’s felt for Chris all those years ago - and Chris’ hips seem to stutter, mouth going slack as he stares down at him as if seeing Peter for the first time.

He’s not saying anything, though, thankfully - just suddenly falls back down onto his elbows, hips moving in a slow, dirty grind as he brushes his mouth across the corner of Peter’s lips. He can feel the prickle of their respective stubble catching against each other and the sudden, sharp _yearn_ of wanting to feel this more, more, _forever_ is so acute, he nearly passes out from the almost orgasmic feeling of pre-cum shooting in a little, clear squirt from his cock.

He’s just never _known_.

.oOo.

“Something is wrong with Peter.”

“What do you mean?” Scott mumbles, looking up from his pasta and towards Lydia who is watching the wolf with narrowed eyes.

“I don’t know. It’s just… if I didn’t know it better, I’d say he’s sneaking glances at Mr. Argent.”

Scott peers over towards the other side of the room where Peter is standing with the Sheriff and Melissa, not engaging in their conversation but instead… yeah… yeah, he’s sneaking glances.

“Huh.”

“What?”

Scott shrugs. “I dunno. Looks like he’s flushed or something. Maybe he’s getting sick? Maybe it’s just the light. Who knows.”


End file.
